


Passage

by DragonSteel



Series: Journeys [1]
Category: Death Gate Cycle - Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-21 18:54:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/601015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonSteel/pseuds/DragonSteel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life is a journey with snapshots kept in your memories</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Haplo's Dog

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Darkhymns](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkhymns/gifts).



> Hi! I wrote a series of drabbles with Haplo and Alfred at various parts of their lives. There is slight Haplo/Alfred and Haplo/Marit  
> I hope the Requester likes these. 
> 
> This first story is Haplo, right after his parents died.

The men searched the bodies for weapons or other useful items. Then they walked, leaving what was left of his parent’s corpses to other scavengers. Haplo followed silently behind, careful to erase traces of their tracks. He assumed that he was supposed to follow; it was his job to erase any tracks left behind by his parents. Only, these weren’t his parents. 

The adults said nothing, alert and watching for predators or tricks from the Labyrinth. Haplo’s tears dried in the moaning wind as they moved through the barren landscape. It was nearing night when they were hailed by another Patryn. They then entered a Squatter’s camp, one or two daring small fires were lit, giving off a pleasant smoky smell. They would probably be put out soon, but for now they heated pots of food.  
The men went up to an older woman and began speaking to her. Haplo continued to follow, and was surprised when the woman addressed him, “What’s your name?” He answered and she nodded, “You will stay with this camp until you are older Haplo. Get some food and rest.” The adults then left, attending to other duties and leaving Haplo standing there alone. 

He wandered over to one of the small fires and someone handed him a bowl. He sat staring at it for some time before sipping at the broth. It didn’t taste quite like his parent’s. Maybe it was made from a different animal. 

After some time it was dark, the fires long buried and low conversation quieting. Another adult came and took him to a tent. At their instruction he lay down and stared at the tent walls before falling into a deep and dreamless sleep. 

Movement and sound woke him. The other sleepers in the tent were getting up. He sat and watched as they packed their things and left. Slowly he rose and followed them outside. The camp was breaking up; tents being brought down in between bites of food. Someone handed him a bit of dried meat and he chewed on it, watching. 

Sudden movement caught his attention. An animal ran from out behind a tent and he tensed, looking for a weapon. None of the adults reacted, except one. A man called something and the animal ran to him, but it did not bite despite the sharp teeth that Haplo could see in its panting mouth. The man reached down and patted the animal. 

The animal had brown fur, four legs which it walked on, a long tail and tongue, and large yellowing teeth. The paws had claws, but they did not seem particularly sharp. The tail was moving, it hit a passing Patryn, but it didn’t seem to hurt. It was somewhat small, standing at about Haplo’s waist and the man’s thighs. It was rare to see animals in a camp, although he had come across goats before. They had to be fed and protected against predators after all, and it was rarely worth the trouble when meat could simply be multiplied with the Patryn’s magic. 

An adult with her long brown hair bound in braids came up to him and told him to make water for the journey. Haplo, familiar with this task, crouched down to replicate flasks, glancing up occasionally to watch the animal and the Patryn giving it orders. 

They walked until dusk and then set up the tents again. Haplo was surprised that they were stopping so soon, but simply kept following. It was difficult to make sure that all the tracks from so many people were cleared. Occasionally an adult had held back from the group to watch him work, but they said nothing and Haplo assumed that they were satisfied with his work. There were a couple other children, staying close by adults that he assumed were parents or family. There was one baby, trying to cry. When they stopped Haplo got close enough to see the sigils for protection and silence stitched into its blanket. Until the baby learned to be quiet on its own it would stay wrapped up. Haplo’s own blanket had been made into makeshift clothing long ago. His mother had rebuked him for clinging to the worn cloth when she took it away. 

A couple of scouts came in; to his surprise the man and the animal were with them. They spoke to the Headwoman, and then the man patted the animal, which lay down, panting. The Patryns walked off to different tasks, leaving the creature behind. Haplo thought that it must be a highly trusted animal to leave unattended like that. One of the children, younger than Haplo, ran up to it with a bit of meat, which it snatched up with its mouth and seemed to swallow whole. The child awkwardly patted the animal’s head, then the animal jumped up and licked her hands. Haplo stared, expecting the animal to bite, but instead the child began to run away. The animal ran the child down and began to lick her face as well. Instead of being frightened, though, she laughed. For some reason it seemed like the animal was happy as well, though it hadn’t received any more meat that Haplo could see. 

One of adults told the child to be quiet, and her laughter cut off. She sat up, patted the animal some more and then left to get some food. Another adult placed a plate in front of him and Haplo took it without looking, his gaze still fixed on the animal, which had laid down and rolled onto its side. Haplo didn’t see the concerned looks which passed over his head. 

That night the same adult, a fairly old Patryn of about 42 Gates, came and took him to the tent. The other inhabitants spoke some before falling asleep, but Haplo stayed quiet, staring at the wall again until it faded into dreams. 

He started awake, the image of his mother’s blood covered body following his sight like an afterimage. Shaking and breathing heavily Haplo stumbled out of the tent into the dark night. Nauseous and dizzy he fell to the ground panting. The air was cool and still, the camp suffocatingly quiet save for his own stifled gasps. 

A rustle startled him and he shied away from a dark shape approaching. Did something get past the watch? Warm, foul breath brushed against his face and he cringed away. A slick sound and then something wet and warm was sliding against his cheek. Astonished, he opened his eyes and hesitantly reached out. Soft dense fur met his fingers and he realized that it was the animal that he had seen earlier. As his eyes slowly adjusted to the dark he could see it looking at him curiously. 

Remembering the child’s fearlessness he hesitantly patted the animal’s head. Pulling back he watched the animal closely; it licked his hand and then nudged it back up onto its head. Haplo gave a soft breathless laugh which for some reason morphed into a sob. Impulsively he threw his arms about the animal and hugged it while crying into the fur. It reacted to this treatment with a few licks, but stayed still and warm beside him until the silent crying stopped early in the morning. 

The next day Haplo learned that the animal was a dog, an animal that could be trained for scouting and fighting and known for its loyalty. When he was fifteen he began to get the urge to leave the camp, but told himself that he would stay for just a little longer, see if there was anything else to learn. He was almost relieved when the dog was killed a Gate later, because that meant that he could now leave the camp without leaving him behind. 

 

\---  
I always kind of wondered why Haplo would associate dogs with compassion and intelligence strongly enough to create his own.


	2. Coren's Bird

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coren is Alfred's Sartan name which I had totally forgotten about until I re-read the books.  
> Alfred here is about 9 I think.

Coren was playing with some of his rune toys when the maid bustled in. “Your parents have left, and they want you to be studying these books while they’re gone. You seem a mite small for some of these big thick books, but your parents know best, I’m sure.”

She spoke funny, but his parents had shown him the runes to trace in order to understand mensch when they had hired her a few years ago. They had told him that having a mensch maid would free them from having to watch him while they worked since he could study well enough on his own now. He had complained, which they had tolerated, but father said to mother that it would be good for him to become accustomed to the mensch early. 

She was nice, even if he had to be careful what magic he did when she was around. When he was younger he had tried to play with some mensch children once. His parents had been giving their parents lessons and they had started to kick a ball around. It had seemed too easy to Coren, so he had used his magic to make it harder by making fires in front of the goals. One of the other children had been hurt badly and his mother had had to heal him. His parents had been very angry and forbid him from playing with any mensch again. They told him that since they were so powerful and the mensch so weak that it was their duty to protect them, not hurt them. Horrified by the smell of burned flesh still wafting through the air, Coren had simply nodded through his tears.  
He didn’t really understand why the mensch didn’t have better magic. After all, magic was something that just came to Coren. When he asked his parents they had said that the Sartans had been born with the power and the ability to care for the lower races. That in the hands of the mensch such power would lead to disaster. Coren didn’t think that quite answered his question but he couldn’t be sure. Although… his father often complained that mensch had less sense than his pet bird, Feathers. Coren eyed the gold cage hanging from the ceiling thoughtfully. So, maybe giving the mensch magic would be like giving Feathers magic. The poor thing just wouldn’t know what to do with it! Coren nodded decisively, yes that made more sense. 

“Now come along to the study Alfred dear.” Overcome with pity and new understanding for the maid, Coren smiled brightly at her, deciding to be especially good for her. 

 

\----  
My brain went blank, so this one's short. It is now my head canon that a lot of Sartan on Arianus had pet parrots because a philosopher compared them to the mensch. After all, since a parrot can speak some words someone who didn't know better might think they're intelligent, just like a Sartan who didn't know better might think that the mensch are intelligent.


	3. Coren's Name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place after Coren/Alfred has woken up in the mausoleum on Arianus. Coren/Alfred is not thinking very clearly.

Exhausted from grief and dehydration Coren stumbled and crawled down white, blank and empty corridors. Sigils glowed softly as he passed, casting shadows to mar the seamless surfaces of the wall and ceiling. “Away!” he shouted at them frantically, “Lead me away!” The clean and pure walls swallowed up his voice, deafening him with silence.

There! The floor was leading up to seamless wall highlighted with sigils. A mensch would have thought it a dead end, but Coren staggered up to it and hastily sketched out a few symbols, forcing the words out with a cracked and hoarse voice. The door melted away, leaving pure noise to batter against his body. He swayed, and then spread his arms as he lurched out into the driving rain and wind. Behind him the door reappeared, inside droplets of water were sprinkled across the floor.

Coren could not see through the darkness and rain, and even if he could it wouldn’t have mattered since his eyes were clenched shut. The wind drove him back and forth, his feet twisted and pushed by the uneven ground he swayed and zig-zagged his way across.

Blindly, mindlessly he lost himself in the storm until he ran into something solid and upright. Falling down he opened his eyes in surprise only to squint them when the rain drove into them. There was a wall before him, colorless and flat in the dim lighting. Coren rose and followed it, running his hand along the wall to guide him. The cold metal of a doorknob pressed into his hand and he fumbled over the slick metal before managing to turn it and push the door open. The wind swept him inside along with a deluge of rain. Slipping and sliding across the smooth floor Coren crossed the vast space. It was no quieter inside than it had been out in the storm.

Suddenly sensing another’s presence he swung around in sudden, irrational hope. A statue stared disapprovingly at him. Of course, the entrance to the private dwellings below the ground. The statue slumbered as its eternal guardian but Coren somehow knew that if he came too close it would spring awake and pull him down to sleep with the rest of his race.

Shuddering, he flailed his way to the opposite side of the room and pressed against the cold hard wall. Distantly he could hear a muffled clanking and rumbling and he swung back around half expecting- but no, the statue hadn’t moved. A door to the side had, however. The shining flat sheet of metal swung open on silent hinges. From behind it clumped a short broad shadow.

Coren stared in astonishment. A dwarf? A dwarf! Their low grumbling voices added themselves to the noise cluttering the air. They were still here, still alive, and he suddenly wondered if the elves and humans were up above living and fighting and dying even now.

They caught sight of him and stared, astonished. One scrubbed hard at his eyes while the other stuttered, “Who- what- how-”

Lowering his hand from his eyes the other dwarf stared hard and then asked in disbelief, “A… human?”  
“Where are your masters?” demanded the other.

“M-masters?” Coren stared wildly at the dwarves before him. “The Sartan? There are Sartan here?” He ran forward and latched onto his shoulders. “Where? Where are they? Is- is that why I woke up? Oh blessed Sartan why didn’t they come sooner?”

The dwarves slowly turned to eye each other. The human certainly seemed as excitable as the stories described his race. “They’re… up there. The next Tribute isn’t for some time yet.”

“Up?” Coren asked, and then his gaze followed the dwarves pointing finger up to the ceiling. He blinked at the pipes crisscrossing it; had those been there before?

“Oh- one of the other islands?” Coren shrugged. Calling on his learned as well as innate knowledge of rune magic he pictured the structure- the possibility that he was with the other Sartan on Arianus. He sang the runes with voice and hands and feet. He could feel the magic take hold, draining energy out of him along with the fading room. The walls that blurred into focus in front of his eyes were white. Stark white. Impossibly white. Blue runes were flaring, lighting the crypt once more.

Coren swayed, feeling weak and drained. The room spun around him as he ran through rows of beautiful coffins. “Where are you?” he screamed. “Answer me!” He tripped and fell on top of one of the clear lids. There was a woman sleeping inside of it. He traced a sigil- the possibility that the Sartan inside was awake. The magic wouldn't take. The woman inside- with pale skin and brown hair, dark eyelashes and red lips- was dead. His magic had brought him to the other Sartan on Arianus. The others had never come.

One of the sigils on the wall close by flared, turning the glass reflective and Coren saw a stranger in the reflection once more. He spun, looking for another person down in the mausoleum with him, but no, a dead room swung before his eyes. He turned, stared down at the man. He was pale and emaciated, wrinkles crinkled at his eyes and mouth. His lips were trembling. This... this was him. The other Sartan slept in eternal beauty. His voice, hoarse and trembling spoke, almost without his permission, “No wonder those Dwarves thought I was human. What Sartan... what Sartan looks like this?” He raised his head blearily, spotted the open casket that he had crawled out of, and suddenly drawn toward it, stumbled to its side.

It looked the same as the others, except that it was open and empty. “Why… what was different? Why did I live to age?” he whispered to its empty pale depths. “Why was I… chosen? Chosen. Coren. My name.” The symbols that spoke his name meant “chosen” in the Sartan language. For a moment he stared in disbelief at the casket meant for him, then, he screamed in denial. “No! I am not chosen, I am not Coren. No!” He tore himself away and again took the stumbling, dizzy passage to the fierce eternal storm roaring on Drevlin. Unlike the first time, the route seemed to take no time and Alfred once again stumbled out into piercing winds. Unlike before, however, there was no rain and a ray of light was filtered through from above. He glanced up and saw that there was a rapidly closing gap in the clouds.

Looking across the horizon he was startled to see a totally alien landscape. The machine had contorted itself and the land into odd and incomprehensible shapes never intended by the Sartan. “Never intended by the Sartan.” Coren could feel hysterical laughter bubbling up. “We didn’t intend anything that happened.” Looking into the distance he could see the distorted and twisted, barely recognizable, central building, where he had been with the dwarves not so long ago. “What else has changed?” he wondered.


	4. Haplo's Choice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place right after Fire Sea

In the dimly lit sky of The Nexus there was no sun, no stars, and no moons, but if one looked closely there was a small black hole. The hole rippled, the surrounding air distorted and a large ship squeezed out. The inhabitants of the Labyrinth, knowing that this was their Lord’s doing took notice- their survival instincts wouldn’t let them not take notice- but went on with their work.

Alfred woke with a start as something warm and wet touched his cheek. Hot air blew against his face and he instinctively raised an arm to ward it off. His fingers encountered warmth and soft fur. He opened his eyes and the dog ‘whuffed’ softly. He was lying on the floor of Haplo’s ship, and beyond the dog he could see Haplo himself slumped down against the wall.

The air was clean and cool, he noticed, his magic no longer straining to keep him alive, although he still ached from exhaustion and healing bruises. The air didn’t sigh from the moans of the dead, only the creaking of wooden boards and ropes. There were no longer in Aberrach. He shakily rose to his feet and made to move forward, only to trip over the dog. He fell with a loud thud and he cringed, glancing at Haplo. His form was still, although whether he was still asleep, Alfred couldn’t tell. The dog glared at him reproachfully from the side and Alfred tried to look apologetic. Apparently it worked, since the animal sat, looking exasperated, but tolerant.

Alfred slowly rose to his feet once more, although he wondered if it was even worth the effort; he would likely end up back on the floor again sometime soon. He glanced warily at Haplo again. The Patryn’s face was pale but still, his chest moving smoothly as he breathed. Haplo had warned him to leave while he was still asleep. He was… letting him go? Alfred’s survival instincts were clamoring at him to turn and climb the ladder up to the deck, but- where would he go? He had found his people, what they had been reduced to. They were pathetic; as pathetic as himself.

According to Haplo there were no Sartan on Pryan. Likely they and the Sartan on Chelestrea had met with the same fate as the ones on Arianus. Would he simply wander aimlessly again? In some ways Alfred felt that he had drifted in the winds since he had been born. Here he was again; no real reason to live and without the courage to die.

A warm tongue lapped at his hand and Alfred started before hesitantly stroking an ear. The dog looked up with warm brown eyes, smiling in a dog-like fashion. “I should go,” Alfred murmured to him. Slowly he turned, until he faced a simple metal ladder. He hoped it wasn’t slippery. With an air of inevitability about him he stepped forward, step by heavy step getting closer until one foot twisted unexpectedly, making him fall against the ladder. He clung there for a moment, gathering his feet underneath him. He glanced back; Haplo was still crumpled against the wall and Dog was watching, amused.

He turned back to the ladder and slowly placed one foot and then another up, climbing with the care most men would save for a sheer cliff. Suddenly something tugged on his pants leg, nearly causing him to fall. Straining to look down, Alfred caught sight of the dog with his pants in his mouth. When he saw that he had caught Alfred’s attention he let go and whined softly. “N-no. I don’t have any treats,” Alfred stammered. The dog took issue with this and grabbed hold again, tugging more insistently. “P-please don’t. I’m trying to leave,” Alfred tried to say, but his hand slipped and he came tumbling down again.

Certain that this time Haplo would surely wake he scrambled to get back up, his legs twisting and flailing as he lunged for the ladder. His face made its acquaintance with the floor. Huddled on the floor Alfred waited for harsh words or hands to pain him. Silence. The dog nudged him with his nose. Puzzled, Alfred snuck a glance over to the other wall again. No movement. No change in Haplo’s posture or expression. Suddenly afraid he looked carefully at the dog. Haplo had been exhausted and injured, but surely if he was in serious danger the dog would show it. He was licked for his troubles. Puzzled, he shuffled forward on his hands and knees. Closer he could see the dark stain on Haplo’s pants and the sticky dried blood on the floor. Slowly his hand reached forward to touch and behind him the dog growled. He froze. The dog’s claws scraped softly on the wood as he padded around to look at him. His hand was licked again and the dog settled down on the floor, as if to say, ‘I am watching you.’ Carefully Alfred inched his hand forward, watching carefully for the reaction. The dog kept watch, but did not move.

His fingers brushed the pants, stiff with dried blood. He saw the arrowhead discarded on the floor with some relief. Warily his thumb brushed over where it had entered the thigh. Dried blood flaked off, but Alfred could see no evidence of the wound. A glance at Haplo’s chest showed that it was still slowly moving up and down. Relieved, he sat back. Perhaps Haplo was simply exhausted, on Aberrach he had been near death both literally and figuratively.

Haplo was alive. His phantasm wasn’t twisting and writhing about his body, his chest moved softly with his breath, and his face- he was frowning. In the mausoleum the Sartan all looked so peaceful and radiant with beauty. Not Haplo. Even in his sleep he looked worn and angry. He was not unhandsome; his features strong, his body kept scarless by his magic, yet looking on his face Alfred could trace invisible scars etched deep into the skin. “My people put those there,” he whispered.

A few strands of hair were swept over Haplo’s face and he gently brushed them away. His skin was warm, smeared with dirt but still- alive. “He’s alive because of me, and I am alive because of him,” Alfred realized. Perhaps one day that wouldn’t be surprising, it would be taken for granted that they would risk their lives for each other. Alfred could almost see it; traveling to Chelestrea together, speaking with the mensch, inspecting the traces that the Sartans had left behind, even- even walking together through an empty mausoleum. Two pairs of footsteps echoing off the vast walls would be far less lonely than just one. A furry head nudging insistently at his arm broke his thoughts. Alfred petted the dog obligingly, “Thank you, I was getting carried away, wasn’t I?”

Much calmer now, Alfred once again rose to his feet. He would go through Death’s Gate alone once more, although he didn’t know what he would find beyond it.

 

\--------

 

There was another loud thud from up above and Haplo wearily opened his eyes. The dog was sitting in front of him and he spoke to it, “It’s a miracle he hasn’t broken his neck yet.” The Sartan was leaving, on his way to Death’s Gate and his freedom. Something crashed and there was a yelp. Well, he would be on his way if he could get across the ship’s deck. He should be stopping him and yet… he lifted his hand up to touch where Alfred had brushed against his face. His fingers had been warm and alive, his clumsiness exasperating but not dogged by the sighing moans of phantasms caged to their mortal corpses. Haplo had seen and felt agony in the Labyrinth but that- living death on Alberach he would not wish on his own people, and he grudgingly admitted to himself that would not wish it on Alfred either. He couldn’t tell his Lord of the practice. “But how can I lie to him?” he asked himself.

There were no more noises from above and Haplo stiffly rose to his feet. He steered the ship closer to the ground and climbed up the steel ladder to the deck, then went down the rope ladder to the ground. Normally he would have simply jumped, but his leg might give way if he did so now.

With growing dread he entered his Lord’s house. With each footstep his leg trembled as he went down the endless hall to the study. The sturdy door blocked his way and his hand slowly rose to knock. There was no reply. Sudden hope twisted its way through his heart and he reached for the door knob. The door opened- there was no one there. Haplo knew then, what to do. Grabbing a loose sheet of paper he hastily wrote down a message declaring his mission to Aberrach a failure and then, using all the stealth taught to him in the Labyrinth, slipped back out.

He would follow Alfred into Death’s Gate and this time he wouldn’t let him slip away, even if a part of him wondered what he would do with the Sartan if he did catch him.


	5. Haplo's Children

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place after The Seventh Gate.  
> Hinted Alfred/Haplo and Marit/Haplo because after re-reading the books I realized that Marit wasn't so bad.

A small girl with short hair ran past Alfred with a sharp needle and he shuddered, trying very hard not to think about what was happening in the tent behind him. Instead, he gazed across a bustling camp of about thirty patryns. A mensch would have been surprised at how quiet they were; all conversations were carried out in low tones and chores were done quickly and efficiently. Even with all the years that he had spent living and fighting with them he didn’t think he would ever grow completely comfortablce with their ways of thinking or living.

Several patryn were inscribing runes of accuracy on their weapons. A nearby Squatters camp had had sightings of an unusually large group of Chaordyn roaming nearby. Tomorrow they would hunt and whittle down their numbers. They wouldn’t wipe them out entirely; they had learned at great cost that utterly defeating or destroying a powerful enemy would often cause the Labyrinth to backlash and create an enemy twice as fearsome. The best strategy was to simply weaken an opponent. 

Behind him the tent flaps rustled and he sighed in relief as he turned to see a young woman with short dark hair emerge. With a broad smile she embraced him. “My final tattoo, Alfred,” she proudly pointed to her hand. Alfred looked at the red and inflamed skin and paled, averting his eyes. After the fourth or fifth time that he fainted during a tattooing ceremony it had been decided that he should wait outside.

“I’m an adult now. I can fight as your equal,” she declared.

Meeting her blue eyes he smiled sadly, “You’ll always be a child to me, Cobalt.” Her eyes narrowed in annoyance, but grudgingly nodded and turned to stand at his side. Her name wasn’t really Cobalt. The name her heart rune spelled was Rue, just as the small girl bouncing up to him had also been named Rue.  
“I made the needle that Haplo used,” her high voice declared. 

“Yes Dancer, you did very good.” Patryns outside of the city or the Nexus never sang or played music. Sound carried too far in the Labyrinth, so they had learned to dance without music. Dancer had been named for her grace and love of this dance. Although Marit sometimes said that it was because she was incapable of sitting still. Marit exaggerated, of course; patryn children learned to fight and stay completely still and quiet or they died young. 

Girls of varying ages were quietly leaving the tent. They were all so different; Flight, who collected weapons, Tawny, named for her unusual hair, Hunter, would could create incredible illusions with her runes, Sunny, who refused to wear shoes, and River, who always had a sarcastic retort ready. Yet except for Hunter underneath all their leather tunics were etched the runes which spelled the word and the name Rue. 

Finally Marit and then Haplo came out. Haplo winced slightly as he straightened and Alfred knew that his heart rune was hurting again. Despite that, Haplo had his quiet smile firmly in place as he met his dark eyes. With a surprisingly easy comradery they turned as a group to collect their evening meal, the other patryns nodding respectfully as they passed, many making a point to include Cobalt to acknowledge her new status. They collected a simple meal of leavened bread and cold beans, and then settled on the hard ground. Alfred grimaced as his bones creaked in protest as he sat. When he looked up Haplo was watching worriedly and he attempted a reassuring smile. Haplo frowned, but turned to answer a question from Sunny. 

Flight had pulled a sword out from somewhere and was sharpening it inbetween bites. To her side Cobalt was showing Dancer and Sunny her new tattoo with a hint of stifled pride. Tawny, ever hungry, had been caught attempting to steal River’s bread and was receiving some sharp, if quiet, words in response. Hunter and Haplo were laughing quietly at something and seeing their smiles Alfred reflexively smiled himself. Marit, sometimes bewildered at their children’s lightheartedness, was watching them too and shook her head in exasperation before returning to her meal. 

Content, Alfred quickly finished off his beans. He would need his strength for tomorrow. Once finished Haplo quietly gathered a select group of patryn to discuss their strategy for tomorrow. Alfred, in dragon form, would chase the chaodyn into a nearby canyon, where they would be surrounded by the patryn who would lead with arrows and spears before engaging in close quarters. Once their numbers had been cut down enough Haplo would sound the call to retreat. If necessary Alfred could transport wounded on his back to a designated area. A select few healers and the youngest patryn, Sunny and Dancer, would stay back to receive any wounded. It hurt Alfred to know that the children would probably see horrific injuries and death tomorrow, may be killed or injured themselves, but he had accepted long ago that it was an evil that he would have to live with in the Labyrinth. Marit and Haplo took it better than him, but they had come from a long line of parents who knew that they and their children would be killed by the Labyrinth. 

Looking across from him he met Haplo’s understanding eyes. He watched him in his quiet way before nodding. They would meet tonight and join together their circles, just as they always did when they knew that there was a major conflict on the way. 

 

\--------

 

Marit watched the quiet camp, deep shadows pooled in smears across the landscape. Night in the Labyrinth was still, too still, hiding lurking evil. Behind her was a small tent, shared by Haplo, Alfred and herself, to its side most of Haplo’s children slept in a larger tent. Flight was on watch at the moment. Haplo and Alfred were quiet in the tent behind her; none of Alfred’s stammering or Haplo’s calm statements. She couldn’t pretend to understand what they had. She and Haplo thought alike, understood each other, could almost read each other’s thoughts at times. But he and Alfred shared a heart she could not read and could not understand. At first it had made her angry that she would never have all of Haplo, but in time she came to accept it. Alfred had a part of Haplo she couldn’t have, and Marit had her own piece of him that Alfred couldn’t have. 

A slender form slipped the children’s tent; Tawny on her way to replace her sister on the watch. They nodded a greeting to each other. There was one thing that all three of them could share; the girls. They had searched long and hard through the Labyrinth for the Rue that Marit had given birth to so long ago, and maybe they had found her, and maybe they hadn’t. Alfred and Haplo couldn’t bear to take an orphaned child from a loving guardian, whatever her name, and so they had found, and left, many Rues in their travels. Along the way though, they had found some in the hands of uncaring parents or alone with no one to care for them, and had taken them along. Most of them were named Rue, but some of them, like Hunter, had a different name. In the end it didn’t matter, just like it didn’t really matter if Haplo had fathered them or not. Somehow or another they had found themselves to be the parents of a large and strange family. 

A few, although thankfully not many, they had been forced to bury alongside the road; a grief that had nearly destroyed them all. Alfred said that as long as they continued to love, no matter what was thrown their way it would be good enough. Marit rolled her eyes, but somewhere deep inside couldn’t help but agree and so had continued to welcome children into her arms even after so many years and many hardships. Many of their children were fully grown now, and some lead their own groups of patryn warriors. Others, like Flight, had chosen to stay with them. Many of the patryn affectionately called them “the Labyrinth’s Rue” and wherever they traveled they brought what their three strange parents had taught them; not only how to fight with body and mind, but also how to fight with their hearts, by loving deeply and without reserve.


End file.
